


Gothel

by mintoche



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood, Folklore, HEY WASSUP, M/M, also idk anything ab japanese police procedures i just know that they dont have guns, hahahahhaa, hey there's blood, i've just watched a lot of law and order svu and i think i know things now, inappropriate use of a nalgene, like...kinda madeup folklore? whos to say, lmao idk how tags work big rip, luv u mariska hargitay, murder mystery time, okay not like...murder mystery...but like...there's still mystery, roadtrips!, seriously blood, takes place in the summer when everything's green, that's the vibe, think windy back roads and dark forests, welcome to whatever this is!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintoche/pseuds/mintoche
Summary: None of them want to say it, but they all know Iwaizumi would never run. He’s their rock, their pillar, the cornerstone of everything they know. He must have been taken, they think. He wouldn’t leave, not like this, not for maybe forever. Because missing like this means forever, doesn’t it?
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro & Iwaizumi Hajime & Matsukawa Issei & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. synthesis

**Author's Note:**

> required listening: Bad Things by The Cults and I’m Not Like Everybody Else by The Kinks
> 
> THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE and this was supposed to be a one shot but then my outline was way too long
> 
> THANKS @tentativesapling for beta-ing this ur the best boy and best frank 
> 
> Also this is vaguely based on Tangled? Like, in the vaguest possible way. Basically kinda took the mother gothel idea and ran with it. Ran a full marathon with it in the direct opposite direction than what disney intended, if I’m being honest, and this happened. Enjoy!
> 
> also part 2 - okay so later chapters will be gory, may have to add a horror tag we'll see so proceed with caution!!

She comes for him on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, right after school and just before practice, that sweet spot of free time when there’s nothing to do. She takes that from him, too.

Oikawa is babbling in his left ear about something inane—if he bothered to listen he’d know, but he’s only got a limited amount of patience, alright? If he listened to all the shit he said he wouldn’t have any more energy for any other social interaction, period. Makki and Mattsun snickering in the other, probably about something slightly less ridiculous—but he’s not listening to them either in order to prevent unnecessary favoritism, because _that_ would make him a bad friend. Ignoring them is in their best interest, honestly.

And then, “ _Hajime!_ ”

It’s ridiculous to say, but he knows he’s heard that voice before. He doesn’t know where or when—or maybe it’s just a part of his DNA at this point, something he can’t help but know because it’s there, inside of him. And then it hits him. His mother’s whispers—always at night, away from the windows, creeping silently across the wooden floors—fill his ears, because she sounds just like her. It’s hilarious, sickening, maybe it’s a placebo from all the times she’s mentioned her, maybe she learned to talk this way to reel him in. Iwaizumi wants to laugh in disbelief as his mind spirals upwards, wishing that he could follow it away from here. It’s today, isn’t it? He thinks that someone, somewhere, may be laughing, but he’s not sure.

Iwaizumi doesn’t realize that he’s left the world until Oikawa brings him back.

“Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi comes back to himself, his synapses sparking back to life, eyes working properly again. “What?”

“That girl over there, she called your name.” He narrows his eyes. “Your _first_ name.”

“What’s this? Are you cheating on Oikawa? The scandal.”

Oikawa squawks something unintelligible. Everyone ignores him.

“Are the rumors true? The people deserve to know!” Mattsun slings an arm around Makki’s neck. They both stare at him. Oikawa’s staring at him. The whole world’s staring at him. Iwaizumi doesn’t know what face he’s making, he can’t feel it.

Iwaizumi thinks distantly, eloquently: fuck.

He’s frozen for just a moment, just a short one—he’s proud, he thinks his mother would be too—before he grits his teeth, clenches his fists, and sends a short prayer up towards the sun. Hopefully someone hears it.

He turns around.

She’s sitting on the shallow wall that skims the lawn in front of the school. She smiles now that Iwaizumi’s facing her.

 _She’ll have black hair, Hajime, and green,_ green _eyes._

Black hair. Green, _green_ eyes.

Other girls have black hair and green eyes, this he knows.

_That’s not very much to go off of._

_She smiles sadly. Oh Hajime, you’ll know._

Now he knows. And now he’s fucked. Great.

Then, distantly:

“Who is she?”

Oikawa seems to think that if he stares hard enough at Iwaizumi he’ll be able to read his mind. Iwaizumi’s torn between wanting to hit him for being, well, _him,_ and thanking him for bringing him back from wherever his head went when he first looked at the girl on the wall. Iwaizumi wills his eyes into a glare, his spine vertical, his breathing to something low and deep. He covers himself in the armor that he needs, placing his fear on the highest shelf of his mind, something he can look back on and process later. While holding his mother’s hand, preferably. Maybe if they had some warm milk kicking around, then that too. (If there even _is_ a later to come back to.)

The girl waves at him, cocking her head.

Suddenly, Oikawa is in his face, smile first, as always.

“Who _is_ she, Iwa-chan? Are you going to share with the rest of the class?” His voice is chartreuse now, highlighter bright and utterly nauseating.

“Yes, do tell,” Mattsun says while swiping at something on his phone.

Iwaizumi bats Oikawa’s face away to glare at the girl again. He’ll be punished for ignoring him later, he’s sure, but he can take Oikawa’s temper tantrums with the best of them so ignores him for just a little longer. Squinting, he sees that she’s covered her mouth with a hand to stifle her laughing. If it’s supposed to be cute she’s failing miserably, he thinks darkly.

“ _Who is she, Iwa-chan?”_ Oikawa hisses as he grabs at Iwaizumi again.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? It’s none of your goddamn business, and even if it was, like hell I’d tell _you_ of all people,” he scowls as he swats Oikawa back to a safe distance. Iwaizumi is slightly alarmed to see that he’s in a more serious sulk than he had anticipated, eyes in slits and his mouth a sour little line.

“Yeah, that’s right, captain! Fight for your man!” Makki cackles gleefully.

“I dunno if he’ll win this round, Makki,” Mattsun says as he looks at the girl. “She’s _way_ prettier than Oikawa.”

Now all of Oikawa’s sulking energy is directed towards Mattsun. Thank you Mattsun, for your noble sacrifice.

Now that Oikawa’s distracted, he can probably get to her alone. He doesn’t want _anyone_ near her, especially himself if he’s being honest, but that ship’s already sailed.

Iwaizumi starts walking quickly towards the girl. He wonders if she can hear his heart beat faster. He hears some ugly squawking from the idiots behind him.

“Don’t wait up, this’ll just take a minute,” he calls over his shoulder, proud of how steady his voice is. He tries to etch their faces into his head one last time, with this last glance back, just in case. Just in case.

“If you’re late I’ll use my captainly abilities to kick you off the team,” Oikawa shrieks behind him, restrained by Makki and Mattsun, who are, predictably, having the time of their lives.

“Don’t worry man, we’ll have the lawyers draw up the divorce papers while you’re gone,” Makki calls to him as Mattsun drags Oikawa towards the gym.

“Knew it was always gonna end this way, Iwaizumi’s too much of a catch, someone was bound steal him from you,” Mattsun says to Oikawa, shaking his head.

There’s more squawking, and then the door closes. It sounds too much like a coffin slamming shut for Iwaizumi’s taste.

Please don’t leave me, Iwaizumi begs. Please, not like this.

But he squares his shoulders and marches forward. She seems to move towards him instead, as if his aura is pulling her forward, to him, always to him.

“It’s been a while, Hajime.”

She’s pretty. Too pretty, her eyes too bright, too green, like those poison frogs in the Amazon, making jewels of themselves to warn and to forbid. They’re unnaturally bright, eyeing him with restrained hunger.

“Iwaizumi.”

“Hmm?” She giggles, bells.

“It’s Iwaizumi, to you,” he says, wincing at his stilted words.

“How about Iwa-chan?” She grins, dangerous. He gulps. He hadn’t expected to fall into her trap this early in the game. His hands are sweating, his heart impossibly fast in his chest. “Your friends are funny,” she says. “But teenage boys are always funny, you know, you can’t fit inside your skins properly yet. But don’t worry Hajime, if it’s you I won’t mind.” She reaches for him and he jerks back.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” his voice is stronger this time although his heart has somehow jumped into his throat. “What do you want.”

“You know what I want, dearest.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. Oh god, no. He hasn’t said goodbye properly—to anyone, his mother, Makki, Mattsun...oh god, Oikawa. _Oikawa._ He can’t leave him, he’s not sure if that dumbass could manage without him. And… He feels panic make a knot of his chest. Shit. Fuck.

She laughs, “oh _Hajime,_ it’s not your time yet, don’t you freak out on me.” She reaches for his face and he flinches. Her fingers are too cold.

“I’ll let you say goodbye, cut ties, settle your affairs. I’m merciful like that, you know. Rumors aren’t always true.” She smiles, and although her teeth are straight, perfect, he sees the smile of a deep sea fish underneath, with needle teeth in a too-big mouth jutting outwards to devour.

“Goodbye Hajime, I’ll see you soon.” And then she’s gone, or maybe not, because Hajime can only stare at a fixed point in front of him, not really seeing anything, shock freezing his limbs. And he stands. And he stands.


	2. excommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Iwaizumi knows that despite everything that he says, Oikawa hates to walk alone, from practice or anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiii! new chap wassup ;) okay so these first couple of chapters are gonna be shorter I think, just because the natural pauses in the story happen pretty frequently here in the beginning, but they'll get longer soon! I think I'm gonna post once a week, probably on monday. enjoy, and comments fuel me ;) <3

He goes to practice, because it’ll be his last one. As he walks into the gym—late, he barely sees Oikawa glaring at him. Maybe he’s in shock, maybe he’s just having a mental breakdown due to his own mortality being shoved in his face, but who even gives a fuck at this point.

“Yahaba, don’t pass to Iwa-chan today, he’s been officially kicked off the team,” Oikawa says, turning his nose up and away from him. Faintly, somewhere in the basement of his mind where a backup generator is plugging away, Iwaizumi feels a soft fondness. He’ll miss this, Oikawa being a brat. Another faint thought: he’s really gonna miss him, isn’t he? Despite the brattiness. More fondness. Disgusting.

“Thank god we already lost to Karasuno, so we technically don’t need him anymore,” Mattsun says, titling his head to consider Iwaizumi.

Makki sighs. “Another valiant young man, lost to Oikawa’s crippling jealousy. He was so young, so strong.”

Mattsun throws himself onto Makki. “So beautiful.” He wipes away fake tears while Kindaichi stares at Iwaizumi with faint hysteria.

“Y-you’re, you’re not really leaving, right, Iwaizumi-senpai?” Kindaichi looks absolutely devastated at the thought. He’ll miss him, dammit. Kunimi too, although he doesn’t seem to care (much) about Iwaizumi’s banishment.

“Hm?” Hajime says, still far away.

Maybe a bit of time passes, maybe not, but it’s enough for Makki to appear in front of him, looking concerned. “Hey, are you alright? Oikawa may be clinically insane but he’s still disgustingly obsessed with you.” More distant squawking.

“He is _excommunicated.”_

Mattsun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” Yahaba looks on nervously, probably comparing the danger of disobeying his captain against the dishonor of ignoring his vice captain.

“But seriously, you good? You look sick.”

Hajime manages to grasp for an excuse in the far-flung reaches of his mind.

“Yeah, just tired.” A smile, hopefully convincing.

And that’s that.

…

Oikawa manages to give Iwaizumi the cold shoulder for all of practice, but grudgingly lets Yahaba set for him after a bit of convincing from Kindaichi and Watari. He still gets a couple of weird looks from Makki and Mattsun, because they know him almost as well as Oikawa at this point, but they don’t say anything else. Iwaizumi tries his best to pay attention to practice, because he won’t be coming back, but his mind keeps wandering to the wall in front of the school, the backseat of his mother’s truck, the loose floorboard underneath his bed. Her voice.

All too soon, practice is over and everyone is in the locker room, and then all too soon, everyone is gone. Well, Oikawa isn’t, he’s still grabbing his things. The brat is taking longer than usual in order to punish Iwaizumi for earlier, but despite everything that he says, Oikawa hates to walk alone, from practice or anything else.

Iwaizumi had tried to savor the practice, make the most of it, but it flew by almost as fast as the last seventeen years (and change) had. He’d miss this, the rack of Gatorade bottles with the lids that were never quite screwed on tight, the way that Mattsun and Makki finished each other’s sentences. ( _Sandwiches, Iwa-chan, sandwiches!_ he hears Oikawa say in his head. Mind-Iwaizumi slaps mind-Oikawa.) Even the way Kyoutani growled at Yahaba, even when, yes—and it pained him to say it—Oikawa was being a little bitch.

The little bitch in question had finally finished whatever he did to his hair after practice, and was heading to the door, still ignoring him, but walking just a fraction slower than his normal gate, presumably so that Iwaizumi could catch up with him.

They leave the gym in silence, while Iwaizumi tries to absorb these last moments with Oikawa. He thought that he’d be crying by now, that he’d have broken down in the middle of practice and given into the fact that his life was going to complete shit, but there was nothing. His insides were a desert, and he was sinking into the sand, slowly, silently, absently.

Then, like so many times before, Oikawa pulls him out from underneath the dunes, dusts him off, smiles brightly.

“You were off at practice.” Quiet.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, thinking of a suitable, unsuspicious response. Oikawa could always read him too well, but he desperately wished that just this once, he’d be able to block him from his innermost thoughts. But this was too big to even partially hide.

“I…I wasn’t feeling good.” He winces at this lackluster response.

Oikawa spins his head to look at him, his laser eyes bright and clear, cutting through his head. “Is that it?” And then, he sneers, “was it because your _girlfriend_ broke up with you? Honestly, I’m offended you didn’t tell your Oikawa-san that you were in a committed relationship. Not that I would have believed you, because a brute like you finding a girl that pretty? Please.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth. He doesn’t want it to end like this. “You idiot, she’s not my girlfriend. Completely the opposite, actually, she’s…”

Oikawa narrows his eyes for the millionth time that day. “She’s?”

Iwaizumi huffs and looks away. He can’t exactly tell him who she is, he wouldn’t believe him, and think that he was lying about his “girlfriend.” (Oikawa had reached levels of dumbass-ery with this presumption that astounded even Iwaizumi. Like he’d be able to do that with the amount of time he spent either babysitting Oikawa or playing volleyball.) He _could_ lie, but he was terrible at it, especially on the spot like this. Oikawa would see through him in a moment, and then he’d be back to square one with a mega-pissed overgrown toddler on his hands. There was only one option, even though it was only marginally less terrible than the others: change the topic and pray that Oikawa let it go.

Iwaizumi turns and grips Oikawa on the arm, hard. “She’s nothing—please, believe me. Please.” He doesn’t want it to end like this, even if he has to beg. (He’d do anything for him.)

Oikawa point-blank stops, his eyes wide. “What are you saying?” he breathes.

He lets go of his shoulder and rubs at his eyes. “Just. Please. Drop it.” He doesn’t like how desperate he sounds, but it really can’t be helped.

He feels Oikawa’s long fingers on his own. He slowly pulls his hands down, off his face. Oikawa has a strange look on his face, almost…tender? It’s soft, makes his face younger, lighter, his gravity melting away. “I believe you.”

“Okay—good.” Iwaizumi says. “Thank you.”

Oikawa gives him another searching gaze, then drops his hands quickly, then drops the conversation as he begins to walk again, this time beside Iwaizumi, this time chattering inanely like he had been right before it all went to shit. He breathes a sigh of relief, smiles a small smile. Oikawa’s leading him out of the desert on the sidewalk they’ve walked a thousand times, and he doesn’t even notice.

All too soon they’ve reached the part of their walk when Iwaizumi has to cross the street to his own house, just across from Oikawa’s, his second home. His heart clenches. That’s gone too.

He stops, making a quick decision. Why not?

He reaches a hand out, quick, and snags Oikawa’s arm, swinging him into his chest. Oikawa makes a strange noise, strangled, but Iwaizumi can’t hear him now, because he’s hugging him, pressing his nose into his neck where he can hear Oikawa’s pulse, fast and strong. He clenches his fists in Oikawa’s jacket, squeezing him tight, trying to imprint this moment into the deepest part of his mind, so that he’ll never forget, _Oikawa_ will never forget. He doesn’t know that this is the end, and it’s slowly beginning to break Iwaizumi’s heart.

Oikawa is limp in his arms for a moment, his hands hovering over his back. Finally, they come down on his back in a tentative embrace. They stand there forever, minutes, seconds, until Iwaizumi rips off both the band aid and a piece of his heart. He manages a glance at Oikawa’s face, willing his tears away, (because they’re finally coming now, of all times), memorizing the brown and gold in his eyes, the crisp waves of his dumb pretty-boy hair.

Oikawa’s gaping at him, breath coming fast. He steps closer to Iwaizumi.

“Wha—”

Iwaizumi jerks away and sprints across the road, tears coming fast. Faster, faster. He doesn’t look back.

…

The front door is open, thank god. As soon as it’s closed he slumps against it, and finally lets himself fall apart. It’s like everything he didn’t feel before is hitting him all now, crashing against him in waves and tsunamis and oceans.

He hears his mother. “Hajime, I made you dinner, it’s on—”

Blearily, he looks up to see his mother crouch down in front of him. She takes him in his arms and rocks him, like she used to when he was very little. He’s not little anymore.

“Oh, Hajime.”

He thinks that somehow she knows, because he doesn’t cry, not like this, in gulps and sobs and whines. That’s Oikawa’s forte. Oikawa.

She pulls him even closer. “Oh, Hajime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr is mintoche (lol same as my ao3 name) --> come yell at/with me ab iwaoi!!!


	3. wet bandits style ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way his eyes had shined looked eerily similar to something primal, running deep in his brain, the oldest thing to know; fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaannnnnnndddd we're back! time for shit to hit the fan!!!!  
> and rip sorry if there's any inconsistencies with how japanese police procedures work (or even normal ones for that matter lol), I did some quick research but like...*shrugs*
> 
> enjoy!

Iwa-chan’s not at his front gate in the morning, like he always is. And, strangely, the Iwaizumi family car isn’t in the driveway, although the lights are on in the house. Oikawa waits around for a little bit, but gives up with a frown after ten minutes pass, shoots him a quick text. He must be sick, right? It’s not because of last night, right? Oikawa bites his lip nervously as he makes his way to the gym. Iwaizumi had hugged him last night, tightly, like he hasn’t done since they were young, like he hasn’t done since their souls had been crushed by Karasuno, Ushiwaka. He blushes a bit when he remembers how Iwa had smelled: _good,_ like pine needles and cinnamon and sweat. He was stunned, elated. He had almost thought that Iwa was going to kiss him— _finally_ — because he had held him so tight, because of that strange light in his eyes, but then Iwaizumi had run away. He had stood there, frozen, afterwards, feeling those phantom, brutish (gorgeous) arms around him. He had lain in his bed, giddy, remembering. He still remembered.

But he wasn’t here now, and Oikawa hopes it’s not because he regrets it. God, please, Iwaizumi, don’t regret it. Did he know what that embrace meant to him? Is that why he ran? Away from Oikawa, back to the safety of his house?

He shrugs it off once he gets to practice, after, of course, he sends another text Iwaizumi’s way, full of emojis. (Because he hates them so much.)

Mattsun and Makki are already there, showing Kindaichi and Kunimi blocks. They wave when they see Oikawa enter the gym.

“Where’s our gorgeous ace?”

“AKA, the light of your life, fire of your soul?” Makki snickers.

“ _Shut up.”_ Oikawa hisses, face red. “Shut up shut up shut up!” Kindaichi looks on in mild terror, Kunimi with his trademark apathy, Kyoutani with absolute annoyance. Oikawa pouts. “Iwa-chan’s sick, sick enough that he hasn’t texted me! The audacity!”

“Indeed.” Mattsun says, gravely. “But seriously, makes sense. He was super off at practice.”

“Yeah,” Kindaichi says. “I was worried about him.” Kunimi rolls his eyes. Kindaichi twitches.

Oikawa turns on the first year with a sharp smile. “ _You_ were worried about Iwa-chan? Do tell!” Iwaizumi’s not here to stop him from laying the teasing on thick, and the absence of his scowl hurt more than the cuff to the back of his head that that comment would have earned him otherwise.

God, he hoped Iwa-chan was sick, he really did.

Oikawa clapped his hands before he could descend into a deeper sulk.

“Alright, dear teammates! Your gorgeous captain has some fantastic new drills prepped for this morning!”

…

Iwa-chan hasn’t answered his text by the time lunch rolls around. Oikawa’s poking restlessly at his bento while he half-heartedly listens to Makki and Mattsun argue about the nuances of equivalent exchange again.

He’s sick, just—really sick, sick enough that he can’t get up to check his phone, right? That’s got to be it.

“Yo. Yo! Oikawa, earth to Oikawa!”

His head snaps up. “What is it, dearest teammate?”

Makkie rolls his eyes. “Dearest teammate my ass, that title belongs to Iwaizumi and we all know it. Are you okay? You’re sulkier than you usually are when he’s not around.” He narrows his eyes. “Do you have separation anxiety? You _do_ realize that only dogs get that, right?”

Oikawa’s eye twitches.

Before he can verbally assault his asshole teammate, Mattsun pipes up.

“Makes sense that he’s not here, he was super weird at practice. Like, _super_ weird, I’ve never seen him like that before.”

He wasn’t wrong. At first, Oikawa had thought that it was the result of that—girl, whoever she was. Oikawa felt bad for the cold shoulder he had given Iwaizumi during practice after realizing fully how distraught he had been, but at the time he could only feel a deep, simmering fire in his stomach. It was totally irrational, because, of course, he and Iwaizumi weren’t—like that, but all the same, Oikawa deflected all the adoring stares that were pointed towards Iwaizumi, circled him enough that potential dates didn’t come talk to him, kept himself between Iwaizumi and anyone else who could take him from Oikawa. The thought that someone may have broken through his defenses terrifies him.

Now, he can’t help thinking that maybe it was something else—something not as trivial as a pretty girl or stolen affections. He can’t explain why, but maybe it was something in the way Iwaizumi’s eyes shone last night, how that shine looked eerily similar to something primal, running deep in his brain, the oldest thing to know; fear.

Oikawa shakes those thoughts away, surprised at the direction his mind had taken. Usually his anxious thoughts concerning Iwaizumi weren’t _this_ creative, or, for that matter, deranged. He was being ridiculous. Iwa-chan was just sick, and Oikawa was just neurotic.

“Maybe it was that girl he was talking to before practice yesterday?” Mattsun says.

“Yeah, his reaction to her was weird. Was she an ex? You’d know about anything like that, right, Cap?” He looks at Oikawa expectantly.

He flicks his bangs off of his forehead. “Iwa-chan’s too emotionally stunted to get a date, we all know that!” Oikawa fights off the sinking feeling in his stomach. The thing is, as much as Oikawa tries to play it off—tries to hide from people who have gotten snared by Iwaizumi’s green eyes or sharp jawline—but Iwaizumi is, well, desirable. He doesn’t get as many confessions as Oikawa, sure, but that’s because Iwaizumi’s intimidating, because he’s _cool._ The way he doesn’t care what people think, does what he want without frills or expectations. And yes, physically, Iwaizumi’s good looking (perfect), but that staunch confidence makes him all the more attractive. And honestly, that’s intimidating. What’s scarier than asking out someone who is so sure of themselves, so confident? (Also, his arms. That too. _God._ ) It’s depressingly possible that Iwaizumi could have snagged a date, even though it hurts to think that he would keep something like that from him.

Oikawa gets back to eviscerating his bento. Stupid Iwaizumi, being too cool for his own good.

…

Iwaizumi-san deflects Oikawa at their front door, claiming that Iwaizumi’s too sick for Oikawa to visit. We don’t want you getting sick too! She says. Can’t have both the captain _and_ the vice captain down for the count, now can we?

The car is still missing.

Oikawa lies in bed that night, unable to sleep, biting his lip. Still no texts from Iwaizumi.

…

Then, at 3:56 that morning:

_Iwa-chan! <3 – I’m sorry._

…

When Iwaizumi-san doesn’t open the door for him in the morning, Oikawa knows for sure that there is something deeply wrong.

…

Oikawa is jittery at practice that morning, silent. His tosses are off, no smiles, no talking. What can he do? Call the police? _Yes, sorry officer, I called in because I have a terrible feeling that my best friend is in danger! No, I don’t have any evidence, just gut-wrenching anxiety and a major codependency problem!_

Yeah, that would blow over well.

Yahaba notices. “Captain…are you alright? Did something happen with Iwaizumi?”

The entire team is paying attention now, those nosy bastards.

He bites his lip, hard. “I dunno…it’s probably me being paranoid…”

Mattsun raises a sardonic eyebrow. “He’s definitely not cheating on you, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’s probably just really sick.”

“Maybe he’s at the hospital?” Kunimi helpfully (not) suggests, much to Kindaichi’s horror.

“Iwaizumi-san is in the hospital?!”

“ _No!”_ Oikawa all but yells, shrill. “He is _not_ ‘in the hospital!’ I just…I’ve got this feeling. He hasn’t answered my texts. Well, he did, but he sent a really weird one.” _I’m sorry._ What the hell did that mean? Sorry for what? The hug? The girl? His lack of communication yesterday? “And I don’t think that there was anyone in the house this morning.” He frowns.

Makki tilts his head. “How did you know that there was nobody in the house? Did you break in?”

Mattsun chimes in helpfully. “Wet Bandits style?”

“ _No!”_

He’s ready to _physically_ assault his asshole teammates when the doors to the gym open behind them. Oikawa starts, because this is strange, everyone’s already here. His mind quickly flashes past the idea that maybe Iwaizumi is joining them late, but once he turns around, he is absolutely bewildered. Two adults in dark, formal clothes stand in the doorway, framed by the early-morning light.

Everyone else is visibly stunned as well. Yahaba drops the volleyball that he’s holding, the dull “thump” it makes echoing loud through the gym.

After a long, confused moment, Oikawa finds his voice again.

“Erm, hello? How can I help you?”

The two adults look at each other, seamless and well-oiled, then back at Oikawa.

“We’re detectives from the Miyagi Police Department.” They flash identical badges. “Are your coaches here yet? We’d like to speak with them.”

The team collectively stares at Oikawa, eyes wide. Why are you looking at me? He wants to yell. I’m as freaked out as the rest of you idiots!

His mind stalls, and then:

“Did something happen to Iwa-chan?” He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

They don’t look at him, but at each other, and he can feel the grim certainty in their eyes without needing to see it for himself. His heart makes a leap for his throat, misses, and free falls all the way down to bury itself in the mantle of the earth. Oikawa feels someone grab on to the back of his practice jersey. He realizes belatedly that the team has all gathered behind him, like Oikawa was enough to shield them from whatever terrible things that were most certainly coming. That’s Iwa-chan’s job, Oikawa thinks from somewhere else. And he’s…

The woman says, “Is your coach here yet?”

“No.” Oikawa doesn’t know who says that.

The adults do something, say something, and then they’re looking at him. Belatedly, he realizes he’s the next in the line of command after the coaches when it came for situations such as these. Adult situations. He wasn’t even eighteen yet. Neither was Iwa-chan, although he was just a little bit older.

“I-I’m the captain. Oikawa Tooru.” Normally this stiltedness that seemed so foreign on his tongue would have appalled him like nothing else, but it was all that he could do with his mind in absolute nuclear meltdown.

That same look—Oikawa’s starting to realize that it’s one of pity—for who, exactly, he doesn’t know—and that makes him angry. Angry is good, angry is fine, he decides. He can work with angry, he was familiar with _angry_. What he couldn’t work with was whatever had been happening before, that blind panic that left him unmoored in his own mind.

When they’ve been silent for too long:

“What’s going on? If you’re not going to say anything then please leave, you’re disrupting practice.” It’s not as cutting as he would like, but it’s something, at least.

This seems to break whatever staring contest that’s going on between the two officers, and the man opens his mouth. Oikawa flinches, afraid.

“Your teammate, Iwaizumi Hajime, is the subject of a missing person’s case.”

There it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes emoji*
> 
> I'll be back next monday! 
> 
> my tumblr is mintoche :)


	4. sail us to shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lmao jus gonna repeat the og summary bc this is the chapter it's from:
> 
> "None of them want to say it, but they all know Iwaizumi would never run. He’s their rock, their pillar, the cornerstone of everything they know. He must have been taken, they think. He wouldn’t leave, not like this, not for maybe forever. Because missing like this means forever, doesn’t it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO sorry for the long wait...shit got real with the fam...death in the family and such *screams* but I'm back! wassup!  
> I'll TRY TRY TRY to update once a week, maybe twice, bc this fic is really fun to write and there just isn't enough supernatural!iwaio in existence and I'm trying to remedy that
> 
> enjoy!

Something happens after that, maybe. Maybe Kindaichi screams, maybe Makki gets to drop the f-bomb dramatically in front of a well-dressed adult like he’s been dying to do since he was thirteen, or maybe Oikawa’s gone insane and he’s straightjacketed to a hard metal chair in a nameless building somewhere up north while his mind is here, wherever here is—because it’s not the Aoba-Johsai gym, surely not, because this shouldn’t— _couldn’t_ happen here. Iwa-chan’s place is here.

As he’s being moved somewhere—he couldn’t tell you how this was happening, because his feet wouldn’t work (more evidence for his straightjacket theory), Oikawa thinks that those detectives were lying. _Must_ be. Because this wasn’t true, this wasn’t supposed to _happen_ and _couldn’t,_ it didn’t align with all the things they had promised each other and hoped for each other—what him and Iwaizumi had wanted for each other, dreamed up for each other and tore flesh and bone for. Oikawa’s knee twitches. What is this all for, then?

And then him, Makki, and Mattsun are being sat in uncomfortable chairs with some sort of nervous adult (teacher?) tending to them with a stuttering gaze, like if they weren’t being watched they’d disappear too. What they’re waiting for Oikawa doesn’t know exactly. So they sit.

Makki and Mattsun are pale, quiet. The rest of the team has been sent home, he thinks. Maybe.

“What the _fuck,_ Oikawa,” Mattsun says. The teacher flinches from the corner but doesn’t say anything.

Oikawa’s yanked out of his mind-trenches, soaked in Agent Orange and twitching. “What?”

Mattsun and Makki turn to look at him, eyes wide and red around the edges. They’re looking to him, Oikawa thinks, because he’s their captain and maybe he can sail this ship to port for them, make everything okay. He can’t, not with this. He doesn’t think he can do this, not without Iwaizumi by his side. And he isn’t here, is he? He’s gone.

“Do…do you think he was…”

None of them want to say it, but they all know Iwaizumi would never run. He’s their rock, their pillar, the cornerstone of everything they know. He must have been taken, they think. He wouldn’t leave, not like this, not for maybe forever. Because missing like this means forever, doesn’t it?

And Oikawa thinks that maybe those two officers (couldn’t be bothered to remember names at this point) knew too, the way they glanced at each other: edgy, worried.

“When he didn’t text, I just thought…

Makki stares at the floor. “Sorry we didn’t believe you,” he whispers.

“Could we really have stopped it though?” Mattsun says with a thousand yard stare. “This seems bigger than us…whatever we could have done…”

Oikawa just shrugs. “I wonder where he is, if he’s—okay.” Oh _no,_ Oikawa, he thinks. Don’t ask _that,_ not today, not right now, not like this. Maybe not ever.

Mattsun and Makki flinch in tandem, and it might have been hilarious if this was yesterday—before—but today it just reminds him of Iwa-chan and him, their unconscious sync. How half of that it missing, today.

He tries to pull himself out of this—this, whatever it is. Deep mud, quicksand, all consuming. Iwa-chan’s not here to dig him out. Somehow, he manages to claw himself out on his own, put his face back on, properly this time.

Steel plated now, he says, “Why are we here?”

Makki and Mattsun manage to pull themselves out of wherever they went too, seemingly glad for the change in topic. A shock to the system, not thinking about Iwaizumi.

Mattsun shrugs, more of a flinch. “Dunno. Maybe, to interview us or something? That’s what they do on all those true crime shows…”

Makki nods, slowly. “We’re the closest to him, right? We…might be able to help, in some way.”

Oikawa bites his lip. “You may be right. They said something like that in the gym, right?”

They nod at him and they fall back into silence. The walls are that disappointing shade of white, almost gray but indecisive in a way that Oikawa hates.

The woman walks out of the classroom, murmurs something low to the adult in the corner, who nods, quick jerks of the head. She turns her head to Oikawa, perfect hair cutting neatly across her shoulders. Pretty, he thinks.

“Oikawa, we’d like to speak to you first.” Makki and Mattsun were right then: interviews. (Interrogation?)

Oikawa gets up, proud of how steady his legs are, and follows the woman into the room.

He’s sat down at a table, with her in on the opposite side in front of him. The male detective isn’t there, he’s probably talking to the principle or something. Because—

“How are you feeling? Do you need some water, tea?”

“I’m fine.” He actually probably needs those things, but needs as banal as water or tea seem far away, unimportant, right now.

“Alright.” The woman’s eyes soften, just a little bit. She’s probably used to these things, he thinks. Iwaizumi’s just a statistic to her. Another missing somebody. His stomach twists.

“I know this is going to be hard for you, but any little bit of information that you can give us will help the investigation.”

“Okay.” Oikawa is strong. He will be. He is.

Lots of questions go bye, after that. Any behavior out of the normal for Iwaizumi? Changes of habit, strange things said, deviations in behavior? Have you noticed any strange persons in the vicinity paying suspicious amounts of attention to Iwaizumi?

No, no, no, he says, except for that last question. Something niggles at the back of his mind, pawing at his thoughts tentatively.

“There was…someone, I guess. It’s probably nothing…” he stares at a spot on the wall. He had put her out of his mind like Iwaizumi asked, but she’s come back to him, along with that ugly burn in his stomach.

“Even if it seems unimportant to you, it may be important to the case.” He can feel her sharp gaze without even looking at her.

He explains the girl and her sudden appearance, Iwaizumi’s familiar reaction to her, like there was history there. He doesn’t explain the jealousy he felt in that moment—that, well—it’s shameful, isn’t it? Because now he thinks that shouldn’t have been feeling that in the moment, shouldn’t have been concerned with his own feelings but for Iwaizumi’s wellbeing. The thought that he had missed something sinister reaching its claws out to Iwaizumi made him feel overwhelmingly guilty. His stomach does that twisty thing again.

The detective accepts this new information with a sharp nod, scribbles in her notes. She then ushers Oikawa out of the room, reassuring him of the station’s devotion to Iwaizumi’s case, reminding him to call if he remembers anything new or useful.

Mattsun is next, then Makki. Oikawa waits until they’re all together again because he can’t fathom that long walk back to his house without Iwaizumi there to guide him. He wonders if he needs permission to leave the school property, then realizes that he doesn’t care about things like that anymore, Iwaizumi’s disappearance overriding any previous fear of scholastic repercussions.

When they’re all together again they stand in a pathetic clump in the center of the room, facing each other but not seeing anything real.

Finally, Makki is brave:

“Are you, I mean, will you be okay? With Iwaizumi like…this? You guys are like—like, in the fucking drift together, y’know what I mean?” Makki says. Mattsun nods in agreement.

Oikawa laughs now, wet through his tears but laughing all the same. “He’d like that you phrased it that way.” Of course he’s not okay.

“He’ll be okay,” Mattsun says, like he’s trying to convince himself. Oikawa doesn’t think it works particularly well.

And then Mattsun pulls him in for a hug, tight. Makki and him and Mattsun cling together, holding each other up, pillars for each other like a three-legged stool, propped up by gravity and friction yet still odd, unbalanced in a way they shouldn’t be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr is https://mintoche.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHHHH can't wait til next time!!! see you guys soon, I've got the rest of this shit outlined and the next couple chapters locked and loaded, just need to get some editing done ;)


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